Lass, I believe you've got something of mine
by WolfieBelle
Summary: When a Khajiit pickpockets a master of the art, she gets caught up in the thieves guild, which holds many surprises for the sleek feline.
1. Chapter 1

The Khajiit's clawed hands were quick as she reached into the man's pocket. The man that she was pick pocketing let loose of a low chuckle, and then a knowing smile; she didn't notice either of the actions. She was too focused on getting that amethyst out of his back pocket.

As the dark cat made her escape, she thought she was safe once she got outside of the marketplace. It was nearing sundown, and she took a shortcut through an alley that she was familiar with. After a few days of sneaking around Riften, she knew the town like the back of her hand. Once she reached the area where she had to make a sharp turn, she felt someone snake their arm around her waist, pinning her against the wall. She let out a small shriek, but was silenced when the same person placed his free hand over her mouth.

The slit-eyed feline struggled under the man's vice grip, wanting to be able to let out screams to alert others of her distress. Great. For the second time in three days, someone was either going to attempt to rape her or kill her. She was betting on the latter, for the man seemed to have no interest in her, but what was on her.

When the ginger-haired man reached into the female's front pocket, she closed her eyes. Maybe this man had seen her steal from the other man in the marketplace. She wished that she could just wiggle enough so that she could bite this man. Then he'd see who was boss. When the man's hand came out of her pocket empty, he looked her straight in the eye.

"Where is it?" His voice was ragged. It was evident that he had to run to catch up to the swift Khajiit, who could even do forward rolls when she snuck around in order to move faster.

The dark feline decided to play it off. "Where's what?" Her voice was surprisingly smooth for that of a Khajiit. It rolled off of her lips like liquid velvet, dripping onto the ginger's face.

At first, the man was silent, stunned by the fluidity of the Khajiit's voice. "Where's my amethyst?"

The Khajiit's eyes widened. It struck her. This wasn't some bystander that saw her crime. This was the man that she'd committed the crime against. As a bolt of lightning flashed in the sky, the light lit up the man's face. Masculine features that were extremely attractive, green eyes, and shoulder-length red hair that seemed to gleam with hints of copper.

The cat hadn't been able to get a good look at her victim when she actually stole from him. She'd just recognized him because of his hair and his build, which was muscular, but built lithely enough so that he could move without making much noise.

Upon not receiving an answer, the man hooked the index finger of his free hand under the Khajiit's belt, ensuring that she had no way of escaping. "Lass, I believe you've got something of mine. I would like it back."

He held out his hand, and the feline reluctantly placed the small but valuable jewel into the man's palm. He closed his rough hand around the gem, tucking it away in a safer place. The Khajiit made a run for it, but she was snagged when the male wrapped his whole hand around the feline's belt, pulling her effortlessly back towards him.

She felt his breath hot in her ear, and, before she could say anything more, the man whispered ever so slightly, "If you need any extra gold, come find me in the Ratway." When the breathing in her ear stopped, she turned around to face the man, only to find that he wasn't there. He'd either run a long way in a short time, or he'd melted into the shadows. She guessed the latter.

Only a few moments later did the oncoming rain start pouring down, the watery drops pelleting her lithe form. She stared up at the lightning-ridden sky, letting the water pour onto her face, making tracks in the dirt that had formed on her fur. She had some things to think about.

She had to decide where she was going to sleep that night, if that man was being serious, and if she would meet him in the Ratway or not. The pending decisions pounded against the cat's head like arrows bouncing around a room made of stone. She sighed, and began to look for a place to stay.


	2. Chapter 2

***** Thankyou to all of those who have added this story to their favorites and reviewed. I have taken all of the review into consideration, and I'll do my best to add what my readers suggest. This chapter is going to be a hell of a lot longer than the last one, so I hope that this chapter will make up for the last one. Also, I'll be adding OC's along the way. Eryx, in this chapter, may play a vital part to the plot later on. We'll just have to see…**

"Brynjolf, you've got to be kidding me. The guild's not been doing so well lately. Another recruit would only lessen our supply of mead and venison." The blonde-haired girl said, frustration building in her voice. Though she wasn't in charge of the so-called 'guild', she was hell-bent on trying to benefit it. Job after job was failed or simply not done at all.

"It's a curse. It's the damn curse!" A man in the corner said, his back flat against a beam that supported the area that they called 'The Ragged Flagon'.

Brynjolf eyed the two of them. "Listen. Vex, Delvin. This lass is different. If it weren't for her shaking hands, I never would've known that she'd pick-pocketed me. With a bit of training, I believe she can really help the guild."

No sooner had Brynjolf finished his sentence than the dark Khajiit came stumbling through the door, knife in hand, and a mixture of her own and a stranger's blood on her light, leather armor. An arrow stuck out of her side, and it was evident that with each move the dark cat made, the arrow scraped painfully against her fragile rib cage.

Though he didn't even know her name, Brynjolf moved forward first, walking over to the female. He hadn't even seen the arrow in her side yet. "Lass! You made it! I guess that you really did need some extra coin, eh?" His green eyes displayed a bit of happiness as she moved forward to him, limping slightly. She had made quick work of the thieves hanging in the Ratway, but not before one of the first two that she stumbled upon had pierced her side with an arrow. Then that had affected her ability to sneak, making her stumbling steps easy to hear in the echoing tunnels underground.

The Khajiit smiled, "Yeah. I guess I did." Her voice was faint, but since Brynjolf seemed a bit too overjoyed to see the sneak-thief, he didn't notice. "When can I get my next job?"

"Um… Lass. You've got something in your side there."

"I'll be fine. I've just got to…" Her voice dissipated as she swooned backward, Brynjolf catching her by the elbow as her face was only mere inches from the stony ground below them. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as her breathing slowed, the sudden movement causing blood to gush from the wound in her side, where the arrow was still stuck."

"Vex! Delvin! Go get Eryx!" He pulled the light Khajiit into his arms, beginning to run towards the Cistern.

Vex and Delvin, who had been talking the whole while when Brynjolf was talking to the cat, turned their heads, jaws dropped at the sight before them. Brynjolf- basically their second-in-command- was carrying some cat. Without further adieu, the two went to get the mage.

Brynjolf looked down at the Khajiit's face, which held an expression of both pain and fear, though she wasn't conscious.

"Hang on, lass. I don't even know your name yet. You can't go dying on me."

Finally, the Khajiit woke up in a bed that wasn't hers, though it wasn't like she had a bed of her own in the first place. She also noticed that her armor was missing. Who had taken her armor off? She shook the thoughts off and focused on taking in her surroundings. The first image that she saw was a ginger-haired man sitting on the chest at the foot of her bed. From the back he almost looked like…

As the man turned around, the cat's suspicion was confirmed. Though he'd changed into what looked like the guild's armor, it was him- the man that she'd tried to pick-pocket. Brynjolf. He had a bottle of Black-Briar mead in his left hand, dumping the alcoholic liquid down his hatch without any sign of regret. The Khajiit was a bit wary of becoming drunk, due to her killing many drunken bandits thanks to their slowed, clumsy movements, but now was no time for her to lecture the red-head.

When the cat tried to sit up in her bed, the springs creaked. As if that didn't give her consciousness away, the movement created a pain where the arrow once was, causing her to let out a small hiss. Brynjolf turned his head.

"Lass, you're awake!" He walked over to the side of her bed, nearly dropping his bottle of mead. The smell of alcohol was thick on his breath, but the Khajiit did her best to ignore it. Her grey eyes were the one spot of light in her dark fur, other than a shiny scar on the side of her left cheek. "What's your name? How are you feeling? Does your wound hurt? Do you need any mead?" He bombarded her with questions about her well-being.

The black cat had no clue as to what to think of all of these questions. Never in her life had someone cared about her enough to ask her about her well-being. Though, the pain in her side stopped her from trying to think about an answer to every question.

When she spoke this time, her voice was smooth, and didn't acquire the raspy quality that most Khajiit carried in their speech. "Name's Fyren. Wound hurts. Mead would be good now." She pushed away her hatred of drunkenness in hopes of the alcohol's effects relieving the ever-present pain in her ribs.

"Alright, Fyren. I'll go get you a bottle of mead, and you stay put, lass. Don't move." Brynjolf felt as if he was speaking to a child. None of his recruits had ever really been injured as badly as Fyren had been. The arrow that had struck her had came within half an inch of piercing her left lung, and, according to Eryx, the male mage who recently joined the guild- the one that treated Fyren-, it had been a bitch to pull out without furthering the damage that was already done to the cat.

Fyren snorted. Ha! As if she could go anywhere. The wound in her side still stung as if bees were inside of the very stitches. What Brynjolf said to her seemed stupid, but she knew that he just didn't want her to get any more injuries. After all, she'd basically become a recruit since she came here and all. The thought of extra coin had lured her here, but that wasn't all. It was Brynolf, too.

The Khajiit, after meeting the red-haired Nord, had found herself to be fascinated with him. His ability to sneak up on her, to hold her still while forcing her to give back the item that she took, even the way that he figured out how she'd pick-pocketed him intrigued her. The thoughts were shaken out of her mind as her wound began to ache again.

After several minutes, Brynjolf appeared back at Fyren's bedside with two bottles of mead- one for himself, and one for her. She took the bottle of mead that he offered her without a word and downed it all in a few seconds, grabbing Brynjolf's own mead from his hand and downing that bottle too in hopes of further dulling the pain.

"Lass…" Brynjolf started to protest against the Khajiit's actions- especially her taking his mead- but he decided against it. "Never mind. I guess you need that mead more than I do." He chuckled.

Fyren, when she was finished with both her mead and Brynjolf's, sighed. "I guess the wound's okay, huh?" She scratched the back of her head, which was covered in longer fur that resembled hair. The 'hair' on her head seemed to somehow be darker than her body fur, which glistened in the dim light of the Cistern. "I didn't know that it was that bad."

"Yeah. Thanks to Eryx, you're all good. It's not completely healed, though. You need to rest for a couple days. Once you're completely recovered, I'll send you on your first job." Brynjolf nodded. "By the way, my name is Brynjolf, lass."

Fyren nodded at his name. It was definitely different and Nord-ish, but she restrained herself from commenting on its strangeness. She wasn't one to talk, anyway. Fyren wasn't exactly a common name, either- nor did it sound like anything a Khajiit would be called. However, that was understandable, given that she'd abandoned her true name long ago.

"What'll be my first job?" Fyren's almond-shaped grey eyes stared up at the ceiling of the Cistern. She was eager to get the coin that Brynjolf had talked about earlier in the alley.

"Sweetheart, when you're recovered, you've got quite the job to do." Brynjolf shook his head, a bit ashamed to assign this particular job to a newbie. A job that even Vex, who basically melted into the shadows, couldn't do was almost impossible. Though, he had some flicker of confidence inside of him. Maybe his new-found recruit could pull the job off. After all, she had almost pick-pocketed him several hours before.

"What am I going to do?" Fyren was beginning to get impatient. She allowed her tail to flick agitatedly underneath the thin sheet that was over her body.

"Lass, you're going to sabotage Goldenglow Estate."


	3. Chapter 3

Fyren hated water. She hated it with a fiery burning passion, but when she decided that it would be easier to cross the lake to get to the island that Goldenglow Estate was housed on, she knew that it would save her a lot of time. Saying a silent prayer to the Divines, asking politely that they prevent her from drowning, she slowly began to swim towards the soft lights that she could clearly see in the middle of the lake. That had to be the island.

The cold water dampened her skin, and she knew that she was going to get an armor rash on the insides of her thighs, but the thought of the gold that she'd been promised by Brynjolf himself made her want to complete the job even more quickly. She took a deep breath and found her foot on the shallows that had formed around the island.

Sneaking past the mercenaries was no task for her, but the locks were a different story. She'd just gotten to the front door, and was frantically trying to pick the lock when she heard one of the stupid, large, lumbering mercenaries say, "Something smells like a wet dog…"

_I'm a cat, smart-arse_, Fyren thought, her steely gaze momentarily directed to the bear-like mercenary. She'd almost gotten the lock picked when she felt something brush against the fur of her arm. She turned to see the mercenary staring confusedly at her, his beady eyes trying to comprehend the scene before him.

_Yeah. I'm trying to break in. What're you going to do about it, you big bear?_

Almost as if in response to Fyren's thoughts, the mercenary reared back his left hand, which held a steel mace, and swung towards the Khajiit's fragile, feline head. She let out frightened gasp and ducked just in time, managing to knife him with her dagger before he could alert others of her presence. The knife hit him in just the right place so that he was too startled to let out a cry. She quickly slit his throat, and watched him choke on his own blood. _Serves the stupid grizzly right_, she thought to herself, sneering at the man's lifeless body.

Fyren opened the front door of Goldenglow Estate and ducked quietly inside without another word. The mercenaries there were on edge, pacing around and cutting corners. Some of them even bumped into her, so she was forced to silence them forever. She almost felt sorry for the poor lads. They'd just wanted extra gold, like her, and signed up for a job. And now they were dead.

She shook the sympathetic thoughts off. It was their own damn fault that they were dead. They tried to kill her, so she just killed them to save herself. No mercy for them. No sympathy.

When Fyren returned to Brynjolf, she found Eryx sitting by his side. She'd met Eryx shortly before she'd headed out on her mission, and so far, he seemed like an agreeable man, but Fyren felt as if he was hiding something from everyone. She just decided the moment that she met him that she'd keep her curious kitty nose out of his business.

Eryx was a tall Nord man, and he even towered above most elves. His hair was as dark as night, and his eyes were such a light blue that at first glance, Fyren had thought they were white. He'd flat-out told Fyren that when he had to pull out the arrow in her side, that most of her armor was ruined, so he asked Brynjolf if she could receive the guild's armor early. Brynjolf had agreed, and, while the armor benefitted her greatly, it wasn't waterproof.

Fyren's waterlogged boots made squishing noises as she stepped forward, so it was expected that she would be noticed right away. Brynjolf and Eryx turned their heads in her way almost simultaneously.

"I burned the beehouses, emptied the safe, and found this ratched thing. Sorry it's wet." Fyren handed Brynjolf the piece of paper. She hadn't even bothered to look at it much, but she knew that it was a certificate of sale for Goldenglow Estate, and that there was a weird symbol on the paper.

"By the Divines!" Brynjolf said, his eyes going wide.

"What?" Eryx said, struggling to get a look at the paper for himself. "Talos, Maven Black-Briar's been cheated!" His eyes widened and his expression changed to match that of Brynjolf's.

Brynjolf noticed Fyren's shaking. The poor lass must've been cold. She was sopping wet, and Skyrim's winters weren't exactly mild. His expression softened, and he turned to Eryx.

"Why don't you go show this to Mercer, Eryx?" Brynjolf handed the paper over to Eryx, who took it and nodded. He didn't want to delay the investigation. "I'm going to take the lass to the Cistern and give her some mead, try to get her warmed up. She's shivering like a horker without its blubber." Eryx walked off in search of Mercer, as he knew that the guild's leader was nowhere to be found in the Cistern, as he was told by one of the recruits who was also looking for Mercer.

Brynjolf wrapped his arm around Fyren and rubbed her shoulder with his free hand. If it weren't for the fur covering her face, her cheeks would have been visibly pink. She wasn't used to this kind of contact with men. Normally, men just said cruel words to a Khajiit- especially a female.

Once they were in the Cistern, Brynjolf said, "Get out of that armor and under the bedsheets, lass. I'll go get some wool blankets for you." He walked over to the opposite side of the Cistern and began nosing around shelves, looking for the item that he said he would retrieve.

Fyren nodded before he left and slipped out of her armor, regretting the decision when the cold air hit her skin. She stood there, stark naked, save her undergarments, for a while, sifting through a dresser beside her bed until she found the item of clothing that she'd been searching for. She slipped the silky, knee-length night gown over her furry body and kept shivering long after she'd been under the covers.

Brynjolf returned shortly afterwards, a heap of wool blankets piled in his arms. He unfolded the blankets and laid them on top of Fyren one by one, and the Khajiit's trembling ceased when the final blanket was placed over her. Brynjolf, still not satisfied, tucked the blankets all around her, and sat in a chair beside her bed.

"The last thing I need is you getting near death again," he said, smiling down at his feline friend. Fyren let out an airy laugh. "Last time, you almost died on me, and if it weren't for Eryx, you probably would've died, lass." Brynjolf looked down at his feet, hating to remember how the poor feline nearly bled to death.

"Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself, Brynjolf." She swallowed, hating to see her superior like this. "If you worry too much, you'll make yourself sick." She smiled at him, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Go to sleep, Fyren. You need to rest up for your next mission. I'll stay here until you fall asleep. Maybe even tell you some stories about the days when I was a new recruit." Brynjolf completed the sentence with a heart-filled laugh. Fyren grinned.

"Tell me about your first mission," the Khajiit said, her silvery eyes staring into Brynjolf's green ones. Brynjolf visibly contemplated, and then agreed.

"Alright, lass, let me think about this for a little while. It's been a long time since Mercer sent me on my first mission," Brynjolf said, cupping his chin in his hands. "Okay. I had to go to…." The Nord launched his story off immediately, telling the tale of how he had to battle draugr and hundreds of skeevers to get his way to a crazy wood elf that had locked himself down in a crypt. He leaned over and grabbed a bottle of Black-Briar mead half-way through his tale, and downed several more, which were lined up on a shelf beside Fyren's bed.

When Brynjolf finally finished his story, he noticed that the Khajiit that had requested him to tell the tale had fallen asleep. Though he was a bit disappointed that she didn't hear him speaking of how many beasts he slayed or how he ended the crazy wood-elf's life to get an important document, he was glad that she had fallen asleep. She really did need to rest.

Getting up from his chair, Brynjolf, seemingly in his right mind, did something unexpected; he leaned over the Khajiit, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Sleep tight, lass," he said into her fur. Brynjolf, green eyes alight, walked away from the section of the Cistern where Fyren was sleeping, and ventured off to find Eryx.

Fyren didn't stir a bit, but the corners of her lips curled upwards into the ghost of a smile in her sleep.

*****Thankyou to everyone who put this story on their favorites, and to those who reviewed. I hope that you are enjoying this so far, as I know that I am. Sometimes I pretend to replace myself with Fyren, and I even find myself blushing when I write this story sometimes. I wish that someone would call me lass… My life is so Brynjolf-less, but that's why I write for those who are willing to read and appreciate my work. My chapters keep getting longer and longer… o.o**


	4. Chapter 4

As Fyren snuck through the tight, skeever-infested tunnels that lied under Honningbrew Meadery, she realized just how much she actually hated the varmints. They carried many diseases that made it difficult for her to do things, but she'd luckily brought many disease-curing potions with her, to her advantage. Her sneaking skills didn't help much with the skeevers, because she ended up stepping on skeever corpses, and the bones would snap under what little weight she sported.

Nonetheless to say, she was ready to get out of this place. Her midnight coat had turned nearly gray due to all of the frostbite spider webs that had gotten caught up in her fur. She sighed as she passed over a pool of blood. She'd worked so hard on keeping her fur nice and neat, and now it was all messed up. She'd have to have one of the other guild members to pick out all of the cobwebs in her fur and hair. Of course, she doubted any of them would be happy to do it. Maybe she could bribe Vex with some of the jewels she'd received by raiding bandit settlements.

It already seemed as if Vex hated her enough, Fyren thought with a light laugh as she released an arrow at a skeever's head. The vile creature dropped like a fly, and Fyren sat down. She was exhausted from all of this. She didn't know how long this job would take her to complete, and it was extremely tiring, with all of the skeever-slaying going on. Plus, the frostbite spiders had been attacking her here and there, too, and their venom was taking a toll on her. Not that it wasn't anything she couldn't handle, though. After all, she'd encountered a dragon in Helgen before being drug up to Riften- unwillingly, mind you.

She remembered that trip vividly. She'd been tossed around by bandits, nearly raped by them, and she'd been abused just for the hell of it. One night she had to wait until they were all asleep, and then she escaped, worked on her skills in combat, tracked them down a few weeks after she'd escaped, and burned them alive. The bloody bastards had deserved what they got.

Fyren leaned her head back so that it rested on the side of a taller part of the tunnels, where she could actually stand, and sighed. She had to rest for a few minutes. She promised herself that she would keep going, and that she wouldn't stop until she'd found that varmint next and poisoned it. All in the name for the guild.

She snorted and picked a few cobwebs out of the fur on her chest.

Fyren came through the back entrance of the guild. She had to pass through some kind of miniature cemetery, and then press a strange button on a coffin. She thought it was a strange entrance, but it was clever enough. When she climbed down the last few steps, and then down the rungs of the ladder, she was met by faces that held expressions of humor, horror, disgust, and many others that she didn't care to recognize.

A certain red-haired man walked up to her, chuckling. Fyren rolled her eyes, bit her tongue, and waited to receive whatever teasing he was going to throw at her about the cobwebs.

"Lass, did a frostbite spider try to put you in a cocoon or something?" Brynjolf raised one brow, and Fyren closed her eyes, putting her hand over her brows. "He did a half-decent job of it, I guess."

"That's not what happened, and you know it, Bryn," Fyren said, using one of the nicknames that she'd picked up for him. "Let's just say that I had more to do with cobwebs than I ever wanted." The dark feline let out a light laugh, and scratched the back of her head nervously.

"Do you even know what time it is, Lass? It took you forever to complete that one. What all went down?" Brynjolf took a seat at one of the tables in the Ragged Flagon, gesturing for Fyren to take the seat across from him.

The khajiit took her spot and looked down at her cob web-covered hands. She looked back up at Brynjolf and said, "Well, Maven Black-Briar told me to go to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun…" She paused for a moment, rubbing her temples. "I must say that she's a bit of a bitch." She looked back up at Brynjolf and smiled, letting out a light laugh. Her canine teeth flashed in the low light of the Ragged Flagon.

"I know how you feel, lass. She's not very nice towards the newer recruits, but she's at our back. Maven's a very influential woman, and she's helped us out very much," Brynjolf said, putting his arms on the table.

Fyren went through the tale of having to talk to Mallus Maccius, and then having to go to Honningbrew Meadery to speak with Sabjorn. She went into full detail about killing all of the skeevers, and running through the tunnels.

"That's how I got all of these cobwebs in my fur, Bryn. Not only were there skeevers everywhere, but frostbite spiders were running rampant, also," she said, pointing her finger at him. "I thought I was never going to get out of those damned tunnels." She shook her head, placing her face in her hands, and dragging her fingers down her cheeks.

She continued the tale, telling how she found another document in Sabjorn's room, and how she took it to Maven, who told her to relay the information to Brynjolf. She finally told him about the same symbol on that document she found in the meadery. Bryn's eyes widened as she mentioned it.

"Lass, go tell all of this to Mercer. This is all too fishy for my liking. When you're finished, meet me back here, and I'll take you somewhere nice that you can clean up without everyone looking at you all funny, alright?" Brynjolf gave the khajiit a small smile and got up from his chair, moving over to Vekel and obtaining a bottle of Black-Briar Mead.

Fyren entered the cistern, ready to be teased even more about all of the cobwebs matted onto her fur and hair.

After much explaining, complaining, and harassment, Fyren was finished speaking with Mercer, whom she didn't get along with all that well, and was about to drop into a random bed in the Cistern when she remembered Brynjolf's proposition. He had said for her to meet him back in the Ragged Flagon, and that he would take her somewhere where she could clean herself up with some real privacy.

The leader of the thieves guild had told her to come back to him in a few days- that he needed a bit of time to think about all of this mess.

As much as Fyren considered the Cistern and the Ragged Flagon her main base, so to say, she didn't like the lack of privacy. While the newer recruits had shown her the bathrooms, which were in a hidden room just off of the side of the training room, she was quite self-conscious, and even the bathrooms had a lack of privacy. Plus, she was always antsy around that one recruit that had previously been a bandit.

There was a story behind that, but not one that Fyren wished to have told. If she was asked, she would tell, but it was unnoticeable to most, so she didn't tell it often.

She walked into the Ragged Flagon, still with her armor on, and saw Brynjolf waiting for her at the same table that they usually sat at while discussing missions and assignments. He looked up at her as she walked into the Flagon, and stood from his seat. Fyren wondered where exactly they were going.

Brynjolf had always puzzled her. He was mostly honest, as far as the khajiit could tell, and yet he was a thief. He was gentlemanly, and polite, and wasn't one to force others to do what they didn't want to do. She honored him, really.

"Lass, just follow me. We'll arrive at the place after an hour of riding." Brynjolf made his way to the feline and put his hand on the small of her back.

That simple touch sent shocks and chills up Fyren's spine. Riding? They would have to go out of town, then.

As they went back into the Cistern to exit into the cemetery, the grey-eyed khajiit spotted several people giving her strange looks.


End file.
